#from. the other two totally identical chickens
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Forced to engage in Solomon-esque shenanigans this morning
#i'm watching my family's chickens for them#the chickens are not cooperating.#we have a (somewhat) broody hen who just hatched chicks and apparently today was the day she decided she was done parenting#she snuck back into the main coop with the other girls. and since she was no longer making mama hen sounds i had no way of telling her apar#from. the other two totally identical chickens#one of whom can and WILL peck baby chicks#the babies were my only indicator. they wouldn't stop crying until their mom was back#she still didn't seem to care a whit about them but at least she wasn't actively attacking them#sketchies
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Your body ballooned when you gave in to eating junk. There was nothing like the feeling of being stuffed, feeling the sugars and saturated fats crawling through your veins. You loved it, were given over to it, totally addicted. In the end, the thing that broke down your inhibitions wasn't their relentless advertising, or even the clever marketing. It was the coupons.
It began simply: you would come home from work tired and hungry, and order fast food. To expedite the process, you'd downloaded all the value apps for the places in your area. The promises of free stuff and quicker ordering was too good to pass up. However, you'd forgotten to turn off notifications.
Every so often, your phone would ding with a new deal, a temptation, a siren's call to get you to order in exchange for deep discounts. In the beginning, these were free fries, an upgrade to a larger soda, a cheaper sandwich. All the same, on those late nights, it sounded good. Why not treat yourself once in a while?
Of course, soon, "once in a while" turned into "every few days", then "every other day", until you found yourself becoming slowly dependent on the offers, a bit of elation from every little perk. The more you ordered, the more their algorithm could read you, serving you exactly what you desired, calling you each day at the proper time. As if trained, you would feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and your mouth would begin to water. It was time to order.
The algorithm, of course, was not entirely in tune with your identity. It was a being designed to generate profit. By ordering so much, so often, you had managed to convince it you were a large household, and it reacted accordingly. The deals changed to suit this belief, family size meals, multi-packs, pastries by the dozen. You ordered them all, gorging yourself without end to fuel your ravenous appetite.
What began as a dinner routine extended to other meals, and soon after that you'd even find yourself going through the drive-thru for a quick snack between meals. To live in such gluttony, messily pigging out without end, shoveling food into your mouth day after day, brought you such pleasure. You found yourself going back, again and again, every day, consumed by the desire for more. Tonight was no different.
Reclined into your sofa, you awoke from a potent carb nap. Your lunch, two large pizzas, half a dozen donuts, an order of chicken wings, and a 40oz soda, had truly taken it out of you. Your enormous belly strained your comfy pajama pants, barely covered by an extra large t-shirt. Your hands comfortably rested on its pillowy softness. Through the mountains of squishy fat, you felt it rumble. It was time for dinner. And right on schedule, your phone buzzed.
With potent glee you snatched it up. Today, if you ordered in the next hour, you could get a meal for four, burgers, onion rings and milkshakes. The kicker: order now and get two more burgers free. Your payment details had never danced across the screen faster, and thirty minutes later three greasy bags full of food were dropped off judgement-free at your door.
You brought them back to the sofa and began to chow down. It had become tradition for you to eat without a shirt on by now; your meals had long since become too indecent to go without dirtying your clothes. Your tummy bared to the world, you picked up a burger in one hand and a fistful of onion rings in the other, and devoured. Like an animal you ate primally, as if starved, not knowing when your next meal may come. There was no one to tell you you couldn't, only you demanding that you would. Each mouthful was calorie rich, and each was washed down with more food, more milkshake, more trash.
You spared one of your grease covered hands to rub your stretch mark covered stomach. As you teased gassy burps and wind breaks from your middle, it growled, pleased, yet still expectant. Rarely was it ever satisfied. No matter how much you stuffed into it, it wanted more. It commanded you to fill yourself, to bring yourself to the brink, feeling as if you would pop. Your appetite controlled you, but under its warm, pleasant, hazy influence, you were happy to be its willing pawn.
The joy of feeding took priority over anything else. You felt like you could eat forever. Your body would adapt to the gluttonous demon you had become, one whose mind lived in its stomach. To eat was so simple, so thoughtless, mindless. You just let your belly think for you as you ordered, and let it bring you to pleasurable, mind-clearing bliss. Your body, particularly your ample midsection, was a temple, a testament to the food gods you worshipped. You loved to see it grow, to see it flow over you, to see it bulge, swell and fill your chairs and mattresses.
A loud belch stirred you from your enraptured state for just a moment to see that you'd gone through a majority of your offerings. There was a slight sting as you realized your feeding was nearing its end. Suddenly, without thinking, your hand reached for your phone again. Your stomach rumbled. It wouldn't be satisfied with just this, but would you really go over that line? Ordering even more, without thinking? Was this who you had become?
A notification dinged. If you ordered in the next thirty minutes, you could get a dozen eclairs for half price. Your bloated belly purred. Maybe it was who you'd become, and maybe you weren't ashamed of it. You had been, at one point, but that reluctance had faded. This was who you were, an insatiably hungry animal given over to your muses, and you loved every second of it. Dessert wouldn't hurt. And perhaps, maybe, even a little after that. You smiled and confirmed your delivery. You had a long, gluttonous night ahead of you, and you were raring to get started.
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POLL TAG – FIVE FAVORITE CHARACTERS
I was tagged by @lurkingshan (at this post linked here) and @pickletrip (at this post linked here). Thanks dearies! 🥰
Challenge: make a poll with five of your all time favorite characters, and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favorite.
I'm sticking to BLs as well, because the field would be far too wide otherwise (can you imagine a poll with Dolly Levi, Buffy Summers, Joe Rossi from Lou Grant, Lady Deathstrike from X-Men 2, any one of the Golden Girls, Erik Killmonger from Black Panther the movie, the Beastmaster and cartoon Aladdin? 🤣).
Anyway, I don't watch all that much BL (not compared to the majority of people here on BL Tumblr, who have watchlists longer than Babe's wig when he was Wansarat in The Sign). So that narrows the field considerably for me – and my list has some likely suspects, including an unbreakable pairing, and also one highly unusual choice. But I'll explain my choices after the poll itself:
Why these characters? Here's my spiel:
PatPran (Bad Buddy) I've combined these two as a single choice, because obviously they go together (and so well too). But really, I would have loved to have listed them separately, because I have different reasons for loving them. Pat is just an all-round good guy, hopelessly optimistic, generous and so giving; he thinks of others before himself (and if both partners in a couple do that, well, you then have a mutually-reinforcing relationship). Pran I love because I can see so much of myself in him, from his tics and foibles, his interests, to his struggles finding his courage and growing into his own identity.
Li Ming (Moonlight Chicken) In a lot of ways, what Li Ming was going through in MLC paralleled some of my own experiences when I was a teen his age. If only they'd had MLC or something similar for teenage me to have watched growing up! Li Ming was somehow able to navigate the pressures of becoming someone true to himself (something that Pran, and I too in my teens, struggled with) while dealing with real world issues at the same time (economic hardship in Li Ming's case, while in mine it was general teen angst and family stress). He didn't let life get to him, and he stayed the course, knowing his own self-worth even when others were telling him to scale back his expectations (Uncle Jim and Heart's parents). Lessons in there for all LGBTQ+ teens, and Khun Noppharnach's socially-conscious BLs should be given more credit for the positive role models they portray and how they help the younger set. Plus Fourth did an excellent job bringing Li Ming to life (thanks in part I think to Director Aof's guidance; Fourth's Atom in My Love Mix-Up Thailand is a lot less grounded and authentic, at least from what I've seen in the first couple of episodes).
Porsche (KinnPorsche) This entry is just for fun. KinnPorsche was a wild ride, whacking us with whiplash at every turn, and Porsche was emblematic of that experience. Cool, sexy martial arts fighter in one episode, total buffoon at the mercy of sprinklers, piss-allergic carp and mermaid costumes in others. Apo gamely played along, and he can do both slick action and slapstick comedy well, so watching Porsche always brought a smile to my face. Whether it was seducing Kinn with pappy supermarket bread, or warding off ghosts with a penis amulet, you never knew what craziness was in store next with this character. Pure entertainment.
Adachi (Cherry Magic) Adachi charmed the briefs off me the moment the lift doors went CLANG!!! on him while he was distracted with whatever it was that was speedrunning through his head again. Such a lovable doofus, always surprised by whatever situation he managed to stumble into. Eiji Akaso is really good-looking, but he didn't care about image and happily took all the pratfalls in his stride. He somehow managed to imbue Adachi's clumsy clownery with a strange sense of dignity (helped along, I suppose, by the fact that we could also hear Adachi's inner monologue, allowing us to see the innocent good-heartedness within).
Dissaya (Bad Buddy) This is the odd one out. Pran's mom was hated by so many fans during Bad Buddy's run, who blamed her for ruining Pran's life in many ways. And it's true her own hang-ups wrought havoc on Pran's relationship with the world outside. But for someone with so few scenes, I think she's actually one of the more complex characters in Bad Buddy, with a turbulent backstory that explains how her own relationship with the world got so warped. My read is that everything she did, including sending Pran away in high school, was done out of love for her beloved only son and motivated by a desire to protect him at all costs. She was a smothering, over-protective mother to be sure, but I think the lady just didn't know any better, and the last two episodes of Bad Buddy really do invite us to rethink our earlier appraisals of her. It wasn't easy doing Dissaya's character study based on the fairly scant details we got (write-ups linked here and here), but they were enough for me to glean an understanding of who I think she is. And I think in the end she is someone worthy of respect, so I do tip my hat out of respect for her. It's also obvious Pran loves her dearly, as much as she loves him back. And I think I trust Pran's judgement of character on this one. 😍
Onward tagging:
@neuroticbookworm, @colourme-feral, @airenyah, @wen-kexing-apologist, @solitaryandwandering
I really want to tag more, but this game limits us to five so these are just five people tagged at random. If I haven't tagged you but you'd like to play, please do so (knowing that I want to tag everyone and then some)! And please tag me if you play, so that I can read and vote on your poll too. 😍
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Bucchigiri!? Episode 1: Merge?! Fall in Love with Fortune Bang Bang Chicken!
An anime about a high school kid taking in a Majin so that he can lose his virginity? Created by the same person that made Sk8 The Infinity? Say no more and sign me up because this first episode was an absolute riot! Though, there do exist a few caveats.
And the biggest of those is that this is a Mappa production. If it was Bones I'd feel far more at ease, but Sk8 The Infinity is taking those resources so the production landed elsewhere. I'm hopeful, and will try to remain so throughout this series, that Mappa will keep things together, but even though the episode looked and felt really good, the staff lists are a bit concerning.
This image is all directors for the episode. The left shows a rare animation layout director credit, but the rest comprise all the animation directors, a total of 17 of them.
Thankfully, they key animator credits are much more reasonable, so I don't have near the same concerns as some of the JJK episodes, but the ADs are definitely keeping me on edge.
But I really don't want to talk about the negatives with how deeply enjoyable this first episode was, I want to talk about the good stuff!
Like the combination of longtime Trigger associated color designer Kakita Yukiko getting on like a house on fire with art director Suzuki Kurumi. The pair give the world of Bucchigiri!? an incredibly strong and appealing identity right out of the gates that emphasizes the disarray and disrepair of the town that our main character Arajin returns to.
Similarly, character designer Kagami Takahiro brings some incredible personality out in great detail, but also has been able to help draw out the best of the humor in their designs. They're impressively flexible, able to melt from their more detailed originals into very expressive vehicles for the series comedy.
I know I really should say something about Utsumi's boards in this episode, but being an introduction to the content, and being so focused on comedy I don't really have much to say. Utsumi does a great job of creating boards that allow the episode to express itself. She doesn't guide the viewer or inject value of her own into the expression of each scene, and while that can be disappointing in some cases, it's really what something as intensely creative as Bucchigiri!? needs to set the stage, to provide a tone that viewers can internalize.
Though it's also important to realize that this is Utsumi's world in the first place, so she deserves credit for the confidence of really messing with it. Changing color schemes, mixing around character designs and motion, even the art style itself is putty in her hands. Every aspect remains fluid and malleable under her supervision, and it means that Bucchigiri!? is left with near limitless potential.
But of course potential means nothing without a purpose, and while Arajin's stated purpose is to lose his virginity, it's obviously more than that going on.
Namely, this stretch of the series seems ready to focus on Aarajin and Matakara's long lost relationship.
The idea of moving on and improving as a person is very much the core idea between the two of them, but those ideas are expressed very differently.
Where Arajin is all about the easy way out and luck and whatnot, Matakara's immediately expressed as being someone who's put in the time and effort to shape himself into who he believes the old Arajin would be proud of. It's a great dynamic that expresses much deeper character motivations between the two, and promises a wonderful and emotional buildup and breakdown as friends. I really can't wait to see how Utsumi approaches their relationship.
And then there's the action. I'm actually surprised it took me this far to talk about it, but it's promising to be deeply enjoyable. Equal parts excessive and accurate, much like every other aspect of Bucchigiri!?, Utsumi is promising a very subjective and expressive approach to it, as is evident with this sequence ending the episode.
It's the perfect explanation for what drives this series, really. Heavy and gritty, it dives into Arajin's character, providing a solid foundation to build out from in all sorts of shapes and forms. Taking humor in stride, it brings a powerful and promising end to the episode that we'll no doubt be further built upon as we continue deeper into Arajin's story.
So yeah, Mappa might be showing signs of a struggle with things like nearly 20 animation directors, but more than I have faith in them, I have faith in the fact that Utsumi will refuse Mappa the ability to disappoint with Buchigiri!?.
So of course I'm going to be looking forward to the next episode!
#bucchigiri?!#mappa studio#mappa#utsumi hiroko#hiroko utsumi#sk8 the infinity#anime original#anime and manga#anime#anime reccs#anime recommendation#anime review
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Happy Hunting, Mister the Frog! (part one)
[interior: the New York Continental, mid-day; it is full of badass assassins in fancy suits all quietly going about their business]
[the camera pans the lobby to show that the crowd is also inexplicably interspersed with various Muppets: Rolf is playing piano, Scooter is a bellhop, Link Hogthrob is talking on a cellphone while surrounded by beautiful female bodyguards, and Sam Eagle is reading a newspaper with the headline “PROFITS?!?”, all while Uncle Deadly & Sweetums chat casually with a group of heavily-tattooed men]
[the crowd is ALSO full of random celebs not otherwise featured in the John Wick movies: Zendaya, Mark Ruffalo, Weird Al, Jenna Ortega, Snoop Dogg, Jack Black, Margot Robbie, Randall Park, Paul Rudd, Nicholas Cage, Lucy Liu, Christopher Walken, Tommy Chong, and Lady Gaga, among others]
[meanwhile, we see Dr. Bunsen Honeydew exchanging a massive dufflebag full of comically-oversized guns for a small black briefcase (which Beaker then immediately drops several times, allowing the chickens stuffed inside to escape) while the Electric Mayhem arm-wrestle John Cena; we can see Statler & Waldorf heckling a group of angry Yakuza from their theater box in the background ]
Bell: (chimes as the door opens)
Kermit: (trudges in, visibly annoyed and wearing a black suit & tie; he has a large, cartoonish white X-shaped bandage on the left side of his forehead)
Fozzie: (wanders in behind him, loudly eating popcorn out of a little red-&-white-striped box; he is openly ogling both the scenery and the patrons)
Fozzie: Oh wow! Kermit, look! This place is great! They have EVERYTHING! Did you see the luggage carts!? (pause) Ooh, are these people all really … you-know-whats?
Kermit: Everyone has a vocation, Fozzie. These are all just regular people, just like anybody else.
Fozzie: Wow! And I guess your old college roommate John Wick told you about this place, huh? Hey, did anyone ever tell you that the two of you look totally identical? Especially with your new haircut!
Kermit: Uh, Fozzie, can you keep it down? I think people here can be a little … touchy.
Fozzie: (fondling a confused Idris Elba’s tie while looking over his shoulder to read his cellphone) Sure thing, Kermit!
Kermit: (audible sigh)
Everyone: (begins whispering as Kermit trudges across the lobby; he arrives at the empty front desk and rings the bell)
Kermit: Fozzie, will you stop that?
Fozzie: (snapping pictures of an annoyed Rihanna on his disposable camera) Sorry, Kermit! (snaps another picture)
Kermit: (grumbles, rings the bell several more times) Hello?
Gonzo & Rizzo: (pop up from behind the desk in perfect unison) Checking in, Mister the Frog?
Kermit: (even more visibly annoyed) Guys, what are you doing here?
Rizzo: We work here now!
Gonzo: Yeah! The High Table said we’re their new most-dependable employees!
Winston: (leaning out of his office) I said most disposable.
Rizzo: That’s right! And no funny-business on Continental grounds, buddy! Or I get to spray you with the fire extinguisher! The boss said so!
Winston: (leaning out of his office again) I most certainly did not.
Statler: What’s that? No funny-business!?
Waldorf: Well, that certainly won’t be difficult!
Statler & Waldorf: OHOHOHOHO!
Kermit: Look, guys, I just need a room. My house got blown up. Again.
Fozzie: Yeah, guys! Also? Kermit here is gonna avenge my death!
Kermit: Fozzie, stop telling everyone that I’m going to avenge your death. I think you really scared that poor Uber driver.
Rizzo: Right! ‘Cuz everyone knows he’s gonna avenge Piggy’s death first!
Kermit: What? Who? No, no I am not.
Gonzo: (putting on 3D glasses) Ooh, a flashback!
[flashback begins]
Miss Piggy: (dramatically flinging herself onto a bed) Oh, Kermie! I’m dying!
Kermit: Uh … well, no. I mean, I’m sure lots of people get banned for life from Shoes 4 Less, honey. It’s probably … fine?
Miss Piggy: (wailing, kicking) NO! SHOES! NOOO!
Kermit: If it bothers you so much, maybe … uh, just try not punching all the security guards in the face so much next time?
Miss Piggy: No! NO! My life is OVER! I’m buying you the cheapest dog they have and then I’m DYING!
Kermit: uhh
Miss Piggy: (wailing)
Kermit: (slowly backing out the door) … Okay well I’m gonna go fold some socks and I’ll leave you to it.
Miss Piggy: (suddenly sitting up) And you better not kiss any other beautiful women after I’m dead, frog.
Kermit:
Miss Piggy: (dramatically slams herself back on the bed; wailing resumes)
[flashback ends]
Fozzie: And I’m the dog!
Rizzo: Cool!
Kermit: No you are not.
Gonzo: Ooh, that was a great flashback! Can we see the part where you learned karate and high-speed stunt-driving?
Kermit: No! And I’m not avenging anyone’s death!
Rizzo: Ohhh, right, right, right! Sure, sure, I gotcha! You’re “not” avenging “anyone’s” “death”! Of course, why didn’t you say so!? I got just the guy!
Gonzo: (pulls out a megaphone) Attention, all Continental guests! Attention, all scary Continental guests! Sommelier to the front desk, please! Sommelier to the front desk! The world’s most dangerous frog is now purchasing several very large guns!
Kermit: (visible anger)
Swedish Chef: (crashes though a door behind the front desk, stirring a giant pot full of bullets that fly everywhere) Hurdy yurdy, Meester dee Frog! Needin’ der guns fer de pewty-pew, shooty-boom-boom?
Rizzo: He wants to know who the target is.
Gonzo: Tell him it’s me! I wanna see what he would recommend!
Swedish Chef: (begins rummaging under the desk; pulls out a bazooka, a katana, a spike-covered accordion, and a big black cartoon bomb — already lit — with the word ‘BOöMBb’ written on it in giant white letters) Hokey-hinkey Mistier dee Froög! Skirben der moo frinkie shootie all der baddies, ya?
Rizzo: He says it comes with a bayonet and three laser-sights, but it’ll cost you extra.
Fozzie: (playing with nunchucks) Oh wow, Kermit! You could probably “not avenge” the whole city with all this stuff!
Gonzo: (brandishing flamethrower) Or the entire nation of Portugal! Twice!
Kermit: (exasperated groan) Look, I’m not “not avenging” anyone! And especially not the nation of Portugal!
Gonzo: Not even once?
Kermit: NO.
Rizzo: (tossing several ninja stars over his shoulder) Pfft. Not with that attitude, you’re not!
Kermit: Now are you gonna rent me a hotel room, or is that the one thing this place doesn’t have?
Daniel Craig: (standing behind Kermit) Ah, I beg your pardon? I am ALSO checking in? I was told that there were several, ah … dozen murders in need of investigation?
Kenneth Branagh: Ah! Oui, and I was told zee same thing?
Benedict Cumberbatch & Robert Downey Jr: (simultaneously) As was I. (scowl at one another)
Scooter: (arriving from nowhere) If you’ll follow me, gentleman? I’m afraid you’re in our “committing” section; the “solving” section is right over here.
(crowd of detectives departs)
Fozzie: (takes several photos of them)
Keanu Reeves: (walks up wearing a cheap fake mustache and glasses) Um, excuse me? I would ALSO like to check in; my name is, uh … Chlon. Uh … Chlon Ww… Glick. Chlon Glick. I’ve never been here before.
Rizzo: You again? Get out of here, buddy! This place is only for real cool guys with tattoos and tragic pathos! Go be a nobody loser some place else!
Keanu: (leaves)
Rizzo: Jeez, what is with that guy?
Gonzo: I like him! He taught me a cool pen trick! Watch! (jams pens in his “ears”)
Scooter: Ahem! Your room is ready, Mister the Frog. You’re in our “tortured path of self-destructive revenge” suite!
Gonzo: (now with like thirty pens jammed into his face) Ooh, that’s the best one!
Scooter: No, you’re thinking of the “self-destructive path of torturous revenge” suite. This one’s a dump.
Fozzie: Does it have a minibar?
Scooter: It does … not. And it’s next to two different ice machines. (checks clipboard) Make that three.
Fozzie: That’s okay. Is the bed comfy?
Scooter: Not particularly. And you’re definitely going to get attacked in the middle of the night by this guy. (gestures at Crazy Harry)
Crazy Harry: (waves axe around with low, ominous chuckle)
Fozzie: Ooooh, fancy! (snaps a picture)
Kermit: Look, do you have any rooms that aren’t weird horrible death-traps?
Scooter: Uh … probably not, but I guess I can check? You’re welcome to hang out in the lobby while you wait.
Fozzie: (picking up a bar menu) Kermit? Can we order some onion rings?
Rizzo: Yep! And there’s a running gun-battle every hour, on the hour!
Gonzo: (strapping on a helmet, picking up a chicken) Be sure to stay for the evening show; it’s completely different than the afternoon matinee! No spoilers, but I’ll probably die!
Kermit: (grumbles, walks to the bar)
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For me, you’re totally right!!! The writing has been so terrible lately. I didn’t know where else to rant, so I apologize in advance for the HUGE rant.
It’s getting annoying and tiring that we have to follow up with so many different storylines.
It doesn’t even make sense anymore. I mean, we have at least five more villains. Of course, we knew some from before but it’s STILL unbearable. They tried to fit so much into an episode when it could’ve fit into an entire season.
For reference, there were a lot of unfinished storylines:
- Rosalind’s accomplice
- People targeting the police and someone taking out the “guy” behind it (why was it brushed over???)
I don’t know about you but I’m TIRED of Monica. There was a lot of screen time that could’ve gone to the main characters of the show but it didn’t.
But what I’m hating right now is the way Everton treats Lucy.
IT’S INFURIATING. After Jackson’s death, it seemed like she had no one other than Tim or Tamara. However, she doesn’t have either at the moment.
IT WAS ALSO SUPPOSED TO BE HER DAMN BIRTHDAY!!! Why did no one say anything? They (Angela and Nyla) also brushed off what she said about having 12 undercover identities. I don’t know about you but they’ve never been encouraging.
It’s sad and disheartening that her friend is a LITERAL teenager and treats her better than everyone else on the show. With Tim out of the picture, she’s alone. I mean, what happened to everyone’s friendship? It used to be Nolan, Jackson, and Lucy. I know they used to date but I mean, come on, they moved on so why shouldn’t they stay friends?
The fact that Nolan’s more friendly with his ROOKIE is baffling. (I love Celina by the way, this isn’t a diss.
I mean, what happened to character development? We don’t see much of Aaron or Celina. They waste so much time with storylines that fizzle out the next episode and don’t matter anymore because either Angela, Wesley, or whoever can’t (legally speaking) touch the criminals.
I’m more upset that they ruined Chenford. For drama? This show won’t be getting renewed in the future, maybe there’ll be an eight season but come on…It’s upsetting how we won’t see Lucy and Tim together anymore. Wasted five seasons of my life only for them to break up and end their relationship in one.
Personally for me, I believe Lucy and Tim are the ones who have TRULY been through it.
I mean, I understand everyone else has their stuff. However, Lucy has been kidnapped and nearly died. Her parents aren’t even supportive of her career. Her best friend died.
TRIGGER WARNING (ABUSE/SUICIDE)
DOWN BELOW
!!!
While Tim was abused by his father, found out about his father’s affair, had to sell the house he was abused in, etc. He went to war and now the whole thing with Mad Dog jumping off the roof!
Meanwhile, everyone else is happy. Sure, they went through so much but they AT LEAST HAVE SOMEONE TO HELP THEM THROUGH IT!
THESE TWO HAVE NO ONE!!! They aren’t married or have good parents!!!
Sorry for my rant, feel free to ignore but I’m sad about the turnout of this season. I wished they somehow got married and moved into a beautiful house far away from this chaos, and had at least three children by next episode but that won’t happen.
There's too much to try and keep track of in too few episodes.
The pacing of the episodes is utter crap because they tried to cram a full season worth of shit (which is usually 20 to 22 episodes), into half a season of 10 episodes.
So the storylines are all over the place. The characters are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.
Don't apologize. I bitch a lot on this blog. No one I know in RL watches the show, so the only people I can rant to are other fans on here.
Where do you get 5 more villains? I thought it was 3. Monica, Blair and the guy who I think is mobbed up, that Lucy's working for as UC, and taking care of his kid. Who else do you think is involved? Oscar? I think he just did Monica a few favors. I don't see him as one of the villains of the season.
As for the unfinished storylines, I'd be very surprised if they finished them. The show has a lot of problems and this, and the timeline are major ones, imo.
I hate Monica and have ever since she came on the scene. All her BS doesn't interest me at all, and I want Angela to kill her.
Who is everton? I'm sure you meant someone else, because I don't know a single character with that name. So, I can't comment on it because I don't know. Do you mean Primm, the guy that stopped her from making Detective?
I hate that Lucy lost both Tim and Tamara this season. Also, don't get me started on the birthday bullshit. Tim's the only one who remembered and even did something for her.
John's supposed to be her friend, but ever since Jackson was killed and Bailey's stupid ass got with him, he's basically been like 'Lucy, who?'
As for Angela and Nyla, I'm already pissed that they were being assholes to Lucy earlier in the season. Angela only gets involved with Lucy, when it involves Tim. Nyla doesn't give a shit in any way.
John doesn't have time for Lucy. He's up his lame ass wife's ass all the time, and dealing with Celina's spiritual bullshit.
Honestly, while Celina has grown on me a little, I still like Aaron more and want him to have more screen time than her. But yet, I'm assuming their scenes were cut since there was only 10 episodes and they had to force the drama bullshit though, so their scenes were cut.
Yeah, I agree about Chenford. They've both been put through the ringer this season more than anyone else, and yet they get fucked over while everyone else gets to be happy. That's such bullshit.
I'll admit, I like drama. It makes shows interesting. However, when the drama and bullshit doesn't let up and my favorite characters are sad/hurt/lonely/abandoned all the fucking time, it doesn't make me want to keep watching, as it's too depressing.
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Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.
• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.
⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️
⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️
• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.
⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️
😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡
Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓
#OnThisDay: Jun 27th, 2017 (submitted on dA; artwork done on Jun 26th, 2017)
Title: Cuteness Member - Sorara (Piyo)
Now this one, I would say an "unofficial" Sanrio character of sorts? But rather, a part character from the Sanrio's Anime TV show called "Onegai, My Melody!" (My Melody, please!") series ❤️🐇🎵. And I know, what you thinking? Yes, I remember watching "Onegai, My Melody!" before back when I was from Elementary to early High School days, both Eng sub, dub, and even Tagalog dub (no doubt for the latter). And that's why, I draw the space prince "Sorara" 🌌🤴⭐, who turns into cute chubby chicken 🐥⭐ for some reason (which, I called him "Piyo" sometimes as an alternate identity) enrolls to the "Cuteness Defender Academy", with his first "Cuteness Mecha Armor" with two different types, the armored "ZZ" (pronounced "Double Zeta" as an official) and the armored "Full Armor ZZ". 🤖😁
ZZ Piyo (Sorara)Based on: MSZ-010 ZZ Gundam [CLICK ME!]
Armaments:
Double Beam Rifle • The primary ranged weapon of the ZZ is a double beam rifle, which was based upon the prototype twin mega beam gun used by the armored Rick Dias II. This weapon possesses two barrels and on its rear half. As with all of the armored ZZ's beam weapons the double beam rifle possesses an unusually high power rating, with the beams from each individual barrel having a power rating of 10.6 MW for a combined total of 21.2 MW.
High Mega Cannon • Mounted in the center of the ZZ's head is a high mega cannon. This particle beam weapon has a power rating of 50 MW, making it the most powerful beam weapon used by a "CMA" suit during the war years, as well as one of the most powerful weapon mounted on a "CMA" suits ever. The power of the high mega cannon's beam can seriously damage a "CMA" suit with even a glancing hit, and as shown when used against powerful enemies, it can completely destroy a standard "CMA" suit shield making it impossible to block the beam. However despite being a powerful weapon, its power is also a weakness as the ZZ's fusion reactor is unable to handle repeated usage of the high mega cannon. The high mega cannon is operable in normal mode only.
Hyper Beam Saber • The ZZ mounts in backpack recharge racks a pair of hyper beam sabers. The hilts of these beam sabers are easily three times greater the size of other beam sabers, and are capable of emitting a much longer and more powerful saber that can easily cut through several "CMA" suits in a single swing.
Missile Launchers • The ZZ mounts a pair of missile launchers on its backpack in normal mode and on its main torso body. Each missile launcher possesses 21-tubes that are loaded with AMA-13S small missiles.
Shields • The ZZ mounts a pair of shields on its forearms. Unlike previous "CMA" suits the shields are not optional equipment that can be removed, but are actually built into the "CMA" suit's arms. The shields serve the purpose of protecting the ZZ from attacks that it cannot dodge.
Special Equipment & Features:
Bio-Sensor • A technological variant of the psycommu system developed by Anaheim Electronics. Although its full capabilities are unknown, its primary purpose was to allow a Newtype member to more easily interface with his/her "CMA" suit via mental commands. The bio-sensor could also have a rather surprising side effect when a Newtype member was mentally and emotionally focused enough (usually when angry or upset) to cause the bio-sensor to amplify the power, speed and strength of the "CMA" suit for a short period of time.
Ballute System • A balloon-like device used to slow the descent of "CMA" suits and ships during atmospheric entry, preventing them from burning up. However, while the Ballute protects against atmospheric heat, it is still vulnerable to beam or projectile weapon fire. If the ballet is damaged during entry, the attached mobile suit or ship will be exposed to extreme heat and plunge into the atmosphere blowing up the "CMA" suit or ship.
Full Armor ZZ Piyo (Sorara)Based on: FA-010S Full Armor ZZ Gundam [CLICK ME!]
Armaments:
Missile Launchers • The Full Armor package gives the Enhanced ZZ a series of missile launchers mounted all over its body. This enables the Full Armor ZZ to bombard targets in combat. Spraying missiles were also mounted on the Full Armor ZZ, mainly for distraction purposes and countering I-Fields.
Large Hyper Mega Cannon • A new addition to the Full Armor package, the Hyper Mega Cannon is a powerful upgrade to the original ZZ's powerful (but energy draining) High Mega Cannon.
Special Equipment & Features:
• Bio-Sensor • Ejectable armor components • Double Beam Rifle • Large Hyper Mega Cannon
Sorara / Piyo (Onegai! My Melody series; Onegai, My Melody! Kirara!) - My Melody franchise © SANRIO Armors (Mobile Suit Gundam ZZ) - Gundam series © Bandai Namco Filmworks, Inc. (SUNRISE), Sotsu
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💀 with Terri and/or Mick for the OC questions
(Since you didn't specify what question you wanted answered about them Imma give a quick answer to all)
How did you come up with the OC’s name?-
They just came to me and I thought "yeah, those are good names!
🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range) -
Since we don't have a cannon age for Floyd I don't know what ages Mick and Terri would
🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?
Each other
🍕 - What is their favorite food?
Mick loves dirty fries and Terri is a fan of chicken curry
💼 - What do they do for a living?
I imagine the two are probably retired. Mick used to be in a motorbike club, now we works repairs/restores on motorbikes of all kinds.
🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?
Mick likes restoring motorbikes and Terri enjoys guitar, she used to play it a lot in her younger years
🎯 -What do they do best?
Mick is naturally good with motorbikes, both fixing and riding them. He and his old biker friends used to get into a lot of exciting adventures when they began travelling, Mick is very good at retelling these tales in exaggerated detail to excited kids
Terri is good at keeping a logical head in the face of chaos, she's very calm under pressure and is good at organising. She's also gotten good at preparing drinks, practise from when she worked in a bar years ago. Her talents on the guitar aren't half bad either but she's not as good as Floyd
🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?
Mick loves biking, looking at vintage cars and football. He's not fond of crumbed fish, iced tea or cats
Terri loves guitar, cooking different curries, and whales. She's not fond of heights, Mick driving recklessly on his bike (especially when they where younger) or lightning
❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?
Mick has loads from when he travelled with his biker friends, they got into a lot of fun schenanigans, especially when they where drunk. One of his fondest is probably the day he got Terri to ride with his on his motorbike for the first time (younger Terri was terrified of falling off)
Terri's fondest are from when her and Mick had Floyd and began to learn how to be a family. Floyd was a total surprise to them and Terri was very unprepared and scared, but the whole experience made her fall in love with Mick all over again
✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?
I can't really go into too much detail with this one and it spoils something in a future story titled Fever (follows the events of Terri and Mick meeting baby Animal sometime after the events of episode 3 of Muppets Mayhem)
However one memory that Terri also hates is when Mick fell off his motorbike and got badly hurt, the two had been dating for a short while and Mick ended up breaking his leg
🧊 - Is their current design the first one?
I don't think I have the design anymore in my files but Mick originally didn't have long hair, his hair was slicked back, sorta like Danny from the Grease movie
🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?
For Terri she was inspired by Trixie from Bluey (who I also imagine her sounding like)
For Mick he was inspired by Dundee from Crocodile Dundee and Kenickie from Grease
🌂 - What genre do they belong in?
Not sure how to answer this one so leaving it blank
💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?
Mick is a male but he would be Bisexual, he'd have deffed messed around with some of his biker friends back in the day as well as a couple of other girls he met on the road before settling down with Terri
Terri is a female and I imagine her as straight, she didn't really know that much about LGBTQ+ stuff till Floyd told her about it when he and Teeth dated in their young adult years. Terri still gets confused on some things but she's a supporter
🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?
Mick and Terri are only children
🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?
Mick has a good bond with them, but he also has a found family sort of bond with his biker friends
Terri I can't go into too much because it'll count as spoilers for a future story
🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?
Their dynamic in general, I spent ages chatting with my pal on Discord fleshing out their relationship before I started work on The Red Critter. They feel like they have one of the more grounded, stable relationships despite how they sometimes bicker
✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?
Currently a lot, I've got a new story in the works called Fever so been writing up a lot of what-if dialogue to potentially use in the story
💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?
Nope
💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?
For some reason cats hates Mick so he's pretty terrified of them whenever he sees one peacefully walking along the street. Terri is harder to shake but lightning can make her flinch
🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?
Mick has none, he's naturally a very relaxed person, at best he'll just get annoyed with someone and then be over it after a few days
Terri cannont stand Tina (they eventually come to neutral terms and become some-what pals later down the line)
🎓 - How long have you had the OC?
Not that long, I made Terri and Mick for The Red Critter story which is still fairly new
🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?
Current age
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Dollar Bin #9:
World Party's Goodbye Jumbo
In the Spring of 1990 I became momentary friends with the edgy older dude next door.
I was 14 and in 8th grade, emerging from a month of missed school due to an epic case of poison oak followed by an even more epic bout with the chicken pox. I looked like the Elephant Man, one eye blistered entirely shut. Edgy Older Dude was in his mid-twenties and was definitely on drugs.
How do I know he was on drugs, you ask? Don't worry, I still know little to nothing about drugs. But a year after our moment of friendship Edgy Guy moved out and my dad, who owned the guy's apartment, sent me over to clean out his kitchen. In the frig I found, swear to God, at least 7 open bottles of identical BBQ sauce. Now my frig today can get a bit chaotic; sometimes I discover we're working on two competing jars of mayo simultaneously. But only a 20-something white dude on drugs is capable of racking up 7+ squirt jars of Kraft's Slow Simmered Original.
Anyway, this guy and I conducted our friendship entirely through his bedroom window. You see, at that point in 8th grade I was searching for The Answer. So were you. A calendar year earlier I Won't Back Down had fundamentally changed my life. Tom Petty's full moon masterpiece disinterested me in baseball cards and comic books forever and set me firmly on the path that led straight to the Dollar Bin.
Petty led me to the Wilburys; the Wilburys led me to the Beatles; the Beatles led me to insist on getting a pair of Lennon's circular granny frames at the optometrist. But then I hit a roadblock. MTV was all Aerosmith and Janet Jackson and I never could work up the energy to try and understand Janie's Got a Gun or what had happened in 1814. So what was next? My 8th grade self had no idea.
Then World Party's Put the Message in the Box glided out the window next door: a warm, earnest cloud of harmony and comfort set to a white guy beat.
And if you listen now, you might hear, a new sound coming in, as an old one disappears...
Him: "Hey kid, what's up?"
(It was a reasonable question. I was standing directly outside his bedroom window, staring in, transfixed.)
Me: "Oh, hey. Sorry. I like that song, sir."
Him: "Yeah. Just came out. World Party. Totally sweet."
Me: "Wow. Yeah. I like the Beatles."
Him: "Right on kid. Want me to tape this for you?"
Me: "Wow. Yeah. Like, totally."
A day later the guy's arm stuck out the window and passed me a Maxell tape (remember the guy sitting in profile in his armchair, getting blown away by the audio quality one experienced from a Maxell tape?) of World Party's Goodbye Jumbo, an album I will now argue belongs in the pantheon of still extremely worthwhile 80's White Guy Rock.
Ah, the category known as Worthwhile 80's White Guy Rock. Stephen Stills appears in it not. Little did you know that what started with Armed Forces and found prestige pinnacles with The Joshua Tree, Disintegration, Graceland, So and Synchronicity, and classic oddball variations with Shooting Rubber Bands at the Stars and Petty, Dylan and Co's various resuscitations, all finds its righteous conclusion in Goodbye Jumbo, Karl Wallinger's fantastic double to The White Album.
Of course Goodbye Jumbo remains a very minor record in comparison to the others I mention above. If there's a signature sound from the album left in the memory of anyone other than me it's likely the brief, squirming riff that opens the first single, Way Down Now. Wallingher squeezes his guitar like a full tube of toothpaste, spiraling out a strangled surge of joy. Take a listen.
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At the close of the 80's my father seemed like the person least likely to help me on my quest to find awesome popular music. My siblings and I grew up without a working stereo in the house and when I insisted we listen to Running Down a Dream in the car the only vaguely relevant comment my mercurial and forever overworked dad could summon up was that I should really listen to Toad, Cream's 8 minute drum solo song from Wheels of Fire. Somehow that track, and that track alone, had lodged in his memory. Was his recommendation earnest or mischievous? Definitely both. That's my dad.
Anyway, my father's sole moment of brilliance when it comes to talking to me about music in the last 35 years came when he first overheard me listening to Way Down Now. As the song began to climax and soar he stepped over the Millennium Falcon that still cluttered up my bedroom floor and started singing along!
Woo-Woo! Woo-Woo!
Somewhere in his brain, otherwise crammed with Reganomics, house paint color wheels and bidding estimates, there was still room left for Toad and the background vocal line from Sympathy for the Devil.
"Your band is stealing from the Stones, son," he said as the song ended. Then he wandered off, continuing to sing it, without further explanation, leaving me totally flummoxed: who were "the Stones" and what did they have to do with the fantastic music coming from the homemade tape I had on repeat? Furthermore, did my father have a secret life?
I once again sought out the dude next door, standing at his window, oblivious to all social mores, until he reappeared.
"What's up kid? Like the tape?"
"Oh yes, sir. But my dad says they're stealing from the Stones."
"The Rolling Stones? Damn, he's right. Sympathy for the Devil. They're stealing from everyone. It's genius. The fifth track is my favorite. Pure Prince."
At that point I was even more confused. I knew about The Rolling Stones. My friends Matt and Eric, who had cool dads, had gone to see Keith and Mick at the LA Colosseum the year before; Guns and Roses, whose fold-out naked lady tape cover for Lies scared the living crap out of me, had opened for them. But how could a band copy the senior citizens behind Mixed Emotions and the Bat Dance guy at the same time?
I went, like a good little boy, and listened to my tape again, counting down to the fifth track, Ain't Gonna Come Till I'm Ready, and I instantly discovered it was the only song I couldn't stand on the album. Maybe Neighbor Dude and I were not destined to be best friends after all. World Party sang like a girl in that song! The word "falsetto" was definitely not in my vocabulary and it would take another year or so before I heard Crazy Love and began to understand white people soul music.
Another word that was not in my vocabulary was "genre", but my self-education took a step forward when I realized that every song on Goodbye Jumbo had a different mood, a different sound.
Listen to the album today and all this stuff is obvious. The album opens with a handmade gesture; Is It Too Late? is Eno sitting in on the Let It Be sessions, with Wallinger turning on an amateur drum machine and then asking an engineer to start recording even though, obviously, he's already rolling. Does this band know what they are doing, we wonder? Of course they do; by the middle of the track things are on fire.
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Every song that follows after in Goodbye Jumbo unfurls its own unique sonic banner. Check out the clouded rainbow dream pop of When the Dream Comes, or the Plastic Ono beautiful death march of God On My Side, or the Dylan/Simon breakfast cereal mashup on Take It Up.
In the decade that followed, Yo La Tengo took Goodbye Jumbo's mixtape, honor-thy-many-masters, approach and perfected it. They rocked; they crooned; they raged; they droned. But Ira, Georgia and James were three (ridiculously talented) people. Wallinger built Goodbye Jumbo alone. That's right; don't be fooled by the full band, cheesy music videos: like the aforementioned Plastic Ono Band, World Party was basically just one guy playing every instrument.
The lyrics on the record are tough for me to measure with any real objectivity. Love Street and Put the Message in the Box sounded to me, at age 14, like sister tracks to Let it Be and Imagine. Wallinger isn't humble on this record; he's out to change the world with a way early environmentalist focus and all kinds of Pleas For Understanding that probably sound pretentious to modern ears. But I still hear those songs like I'm back in Algebra 1, teaching myself how to draw peace signs.
By one measure Goodbye Jumbo is the last record I own that should be considered for the Dollar Bin. Last Spring, after 30 years of looking, I found a pristine vinyl copy and bought it for $40, making it the most expensive individual record I've ever bought. Vinyl records were barely made between 89 and the 00's, so records from that era are always priced at a steep premium.
But don't lose faith in me because of that sticker price, my fellow Dollar Bin Dwellers: I guarantee that you can pick up a CD copy of Goodbye Jumbo for a buck without too much hard looking, and, who am I kidding, all this stuff is available on Spotify anyway.
So I'm putting this message in the box and I'm sending it around the world in a car: Goodbye Jumbo is the late 80's Dollar Bin treasure.
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Hello and welcome back to Krax Watches. Tonight I am binge watching The Bad Batch Season 3, Episodes 10-14.
Episode 10 — Identity Crisis
• The little kids being imprisoned made me cry. Like immediately. I’m on my period okay? Leave me alone
• Why haven’t they killed Nala Se?
• I was hoping we would have more info on Emerie by now. Like is she really a clone? And if she is, is she a female clone of Jango or a clone of someone else?
• I know it’s already been established that Cad Bane is a known child abductor, I hate looking at it with my own two eyeballs every time. ITS LITERALLY A BABY
• I’m so glad Boba Fett murdered Cad Bane like 35 years later.
Episode 11 — Point of No Return
• The second she put down Lula and Tech’s nerd goggles, the ship was toast
• I hope someone kills Sid. Snitches get stitches and also fuck you
• Hunter really fell from like a hundred feet up and just swam his ass back to shore
• I hate that this season has made me go back on my hatred of Crosshair. I still think he’s a crusty dusty musty asshole. But god damn am I weak for sibling tropes, especially older brother tropes.
• You just know he is beating the ever loving shit out of himself for losing Omega to the Empire
• Mystery masked guy, that is definitely Tech, really just allowed Omega to be loose back there behind him while flying at the end there… I know this is still sort of a kids show and they would never actually do this… but Omega could totally bash him in the back of the head while he’s flying. Or garrot him or something. Maybe even yank off his helmet.
Episode 12 — Juggernaut
• Omega looking at Emerie… hello traitor
• Kinda forgot that Crosshair and Phee haven’t met yet
• Phee still refers to Tech as brown eyes, cute! But don’t all of them have brown eyes… ya know… because they’re clones
• …. What was Admiral Rampart arrested for again? I remember hating him… but I can’t remember anything else about him
• Phee is cool as fuck and I love her
• Rampart is racist… alienist… whatever, fuck that guy
• Wouldn’t it have been a wild connection if Rampart was in a work camp or work facility like the one Cassian was in?! Way harder to get him out, but would have been a cool connection
• Wooooooo! Jail break!
• Playing chicken with a tank!
• Lmao throwing Rampart like a sack of potatoes
• I kind of can’t figure out what it is they are trying to accomplish with Omega and the other high M count kiddos. Maybe I’m just dense
Episode 13 — Into the Breach
• It makes me intensely sad thinking about the fact that Omega has spent the majority of her little life in captivity
• They’re making the children take care of the literal baby
• Echo my boy! You’ve returned!
• I like how Omegas legs are almost too big to fit under the table, she’s groaning up 😫
• She’s so devious and crafty, I love Omega
• They stripped the paint off their armor. Why does that feel so foreboding???
• Rampart is cranky because he hasn’t gotten dick in months, damn shame
• Even with the paint stripped off their armor, they look wildly out of place
• Wrecker playing is playing Candy Crush, scrolling space Tumblr, swiping on galactic Hinge, reading fanfic on space AO3
• I want to cuddle that owl baby so bad
• I love bitchy little R2 units
• Crosshair saying, Relax, Echo’s on it, makes me emotional
• Literally can’t believe that fucking worked
Episode 14 — Flash Strike
• Howmst the fuck did they know that it was Clone Force 99 and Rampart? They didn’t get caught by anyone
• I feel like Wrecker hasn’t gotten to do anything or have any personality this season :/ he’s kinda just there
• This bitch with the bangs is going to be an ongoing problem. I hope the children kick her shins until she croaks or something
• Lamo what does Rampart sound like that?!
• Echo really needs to get a prosthetic hand at some point his little screwdriver nub is a dead give away
• Did they leave Batcher on Pabu? I didn’t realize she was missing until now
• Rampart have ZERO self preservation skills. There is almost nothing preventing the batch from killing him
• Inventory droids always have a stick up their ass
• Thanks for the hand! Oh my god 😂 I was right!!
• Please let the monster eat Rampart, PLEASE let the monster eat Rampart. PLEASEEEEEEE
• What the fuuuuuck? I forgot about the Zillo Beast
• I was such an anxious child. I would have been so worried about Omega I would have thrown up
• Omega’s poker face is iconic!
• Let’s go Emerie! You have exactly one opportunity to not fuck this up
The final episode next week is going to be chaotic as fuck. I have no idea what to expect. I feel like there are waaay too many loose ends to tie up. Which further leads me to believe that there’s going to be another spin off about Omega or about Rex or something.
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Day V
My take on this:
"I'll be your waitress tonight. My name is Dorian. So, what can I start you two off with?"
Zené held his tongue as Marie ordered water and a glass of chardonnay. Zené just ordered a water, wanting Dorian to leave as quickly as possible. Dorian was Spike, a villain who liked to make his life miserable, coming up with some plan or another or just stealing something from the Embassy. He wasn't supposed to know her secret identity. It wasn't in her file. But he did. She wasn't supposed to know his. He was a hero. But she did.
"It looked like you knew that waitress. Who is she?"
"Just, uh, somebody I see sometimes. I come here, she waits my tables, she comes to the junkyard, says hi as she drops off some scraps or something."
"Oh, what do you do?"
"Um... Crusher operator at the junkyard. Half the time I'm rescuing perfectly good cars from people who think a dent's worth trashing 30+ thousand dollars of first car material. I'm also the unofficial salesman. Cheapskate parents'll come to the junkyard to buy some clunker, I sell a beauty of a '97 Camaro for $2,000. Half the time when it comes back, it's totaled. Fun times."
"Oh, that's nice."
"Yeah."
Dorian came back with menus and the drinks, then promptly left. Zené looked at the menu, so it wouldn't seem so awkward for Marie even though he already knew what he wanted.
"What do you recommend, Zené? I've never really been to a fancy restaurant."
"Oh. Well my go to is alfredo, either chicken or shrimp, or a well-done t-bone or sirloin. Expensive, but worth the convenience."
"Hmm." Marie flipped through the menu, locating the items he mentioned, rocking her head back and forth trying to decide. "I think I'll go sirloin with the special on the side"
"That's a great choice. Their specials are always amazing." About 15 minutes later, Dorian came back.
"Y'all know whatcha want?"
"Yeah. What's the special today?" Marie asked.
"We have chili soup and we have Naomi's Concoction, basically an alfredo casserole."
"Oooh. I'll have a side of, what was it, Naomi's Concoction? with a sirloin medium-well."
"Alright, medium-well. And for you, sir?"
"Chicken and shrimp alfredo, all in one, with a side of the chili special."
"Alright! Comin' right up."
Dorian walked off with a mischievous pep in her step. Zené noticed and sighed. Yet another date to-be-crashed. Just great. The only thing to do now was wait. Dorian never crashed his dates the same way twice. The first one was a simple case of bullying. Dorian came to the cafe as a "friend", making fun of everything the girl did. Another was an assassination as he walked the girl home. There were a few others, but each time Dorian was behind it and each time she made sure Zené knew.
Innocently, she brought the food to the table after about 20 minutes, the average time it took any amount of food to be made at The Golden Goose.
Zené dug in. He refused to stress out over what could be when he had no proof. Instead, he wanted to get it over with and he wanted to enjoy himself.
Dorian came by a couple times, as any good waitress should, not carrying any poisons or venoms on her. Marie commented on how good the food was and Dixie smiled politely.
Zené and Marie finished eating and sat back, full. Before long, Marie excused herself to go to the bathroom and that's when Dorian's plan sprang into action. She has planned it thoroughly, and was able to get her shift ended then. She changed into her normal clothes and sat where Marie was sitting, across from Zené.
"What're you doing? Aren't you on the clock?" Zené hissed.
"Nope, just got off. Works when you own the company."
"What-? You own this?"
"Yeah. How do you think I fund my villainy?"
Zené opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, nodding in acceptance.
"That girl. Marie. You'd really choose her over me?"
"Uh, yeah. You're a villain. I'm a hero. There's a big difference between us. I'm not gonna get with somebody who I'm gonna have to fight in the morning."
"Y'know, you wouldn't have to if we were married."
"No. And you know why."
"Let me guess: morality?"
"Precisely."
"Well, then it would be a shame if I stole you from your date, wouldn't it?"
Zené's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"
"You know what I mean. So don't try to deny it. I know your nature. And I will use it to my advantage every time."
Marie came out of the bathroom and took stock of what she saw before launching into a tirade.
"Get out of my seat. That boy is mine. And if I see you with him again, I just might do something you'll regret."
"Oh really?" Dorian hummed, chuckling, "You'll do something I'll regret? I would love to see that." She slinked around the table and latched onto Zené's arm, who, with a miserable attempt, tried to get her off. Tried to get away. But she held fast and kept him anchored to the spot.
Marie threw a punch and Zené sighed. No civilian had the prowess to be a villain of Dorian's caliber.
Dorian caught Marie's arm and pressed her to the table calmly, yet firmly. She handed the half-empty bottle of chardonnay to Dixie, who took a swig, then said, "I get what I want no matter what, so I recommend you don't make this any bigger of a scene than it already is and leave. Let me have my man, and you can take whoever else you want." She let Marie go, who sulked out of there, and the rest of the patrons clapped at how decisively and quietly it was handled. Dorian bowed, then took Zené by the hand and left.
The next day, Zené went about his day like nothing had happened. Until he was summoned, privately of course, by Dorian. Well, by Spike. So he went in as Generator.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing, really. I've just noticed that your dates have looked more and more like me lately. Is that on purpose?" Generator thought about it. It hadn't been on purpose. But when your type is tall chubby hourglass goth, you look for that more than anything else. Generator set his jaw, annoyed by her accuracy.
"You can't just keep crashing my dates!" Generator blurted.
"Well, I mean, I keep doing it, so "can't" I don't think, is the operative word here." Generator scoffed.
"Stop crashing my dates."
"Oh, you don't go on them looking for a version of me that'll fit your moral code? Someone who looks like me and acts like me and who's similar enough that you can mold to be me without it being me?"
"...No."
"You don't want me to just claim you right then and there, pinning you to the table so we get removed and I take you to my place and we continue where we left off?"
"N-No."
"Oh. Then I'll stop."
"Wh-What?"
"I'll stop crashing your dates and flirting with you and we can go back to our hero/villain relationship while you find someone to marry. That's what you want, right? Of course, you could always say please."
"Say please?"
"Yeah. Say please and I'll pin you to the wall, kiss you breathless, and screw your pretty little brains into oblivion." Spike closed the gap, pouring two glasses of strawberry wine on her way. She offered one glass and Generator took it, taking a sip. It was good. Spike downed her glass, then set it on a nearby table. She advanced and Generator found his back hit a wall abnormally quickly. He took another sip of the wine.
"Just say you don't want this. It's that simple."
"No," Generator whispered. His nature made lying nearly impossible. It caused him to shake, like he was high or something. All that fixed it was the truth. Now, he could fool a lie detector and he could worm his way around the shaking, but he preferred not to lie.
The wine glass started to shudder, threatening to spill. He took another sip. Spike took the drink from him and set it on the table before settling her hand on the wall by his left shoulder. Generator knew one way to fix the shaking that was threatening to erupt out of him.
"Please~" he gasped, eyes unfocused as a wicked grin grew on Spike's face. She kissed him and he melted into it, supporting himself with her shoulder. She pressed him into the wall and got started on a hickey while he moaned and shuddered as the need overwhelmed him.
From then on, the only dates were with her in her office or her house.
Hi! Absolutely love your writing :) Would you be willing to do a enemies to lovers but with hero x villain? Maybe with like a controlling villain and the hero secretly likes it but is defiant externally? Sorry idk if that made sense lol
Thank you in advance though if you're able to!
"You can't just keep crashing my dates."
The villain glanced over their shoulder, raising an eyebrow in a mimicry of an emotion that didn't quite reach their eyes. "No?"
"No." The hero stalked closer, stopping in front of the villain, in time for them to turn. "I'm not yours."
"No?"
"No!" The hero's heart gave a little skip, at the possibility that the villain would then look at them and then say (in a growl, or devastatingly matter-of-fact, or in a teasing purr) 'yes, you are' or 'you're most certainly mine'. The villain had done it before.
The villain tilted their head, offering the hero one of the two glasses of wine they had just poured.
The hero took it, anticipating.
The villain didn't say anything, simply watching them as they took a steady sip.
The hero's face burned but they refused, stubbornly, to look away.
The villain set their glass down on the counter behind them. No rush.
The hero imagined the villain grabbing them, kissing them, as they had done before too. Twirling them, glass flying and wine sloshing, and pressing them up against the nearest flat surface. They would change every no to yes and please and more.
They both knew the routine, the dance of it. It didn't need saying.
"Your dates look increasingly like me," the villain murmured. "Have you noticed?" Their hands stayed, agonisingly, at their sides, as they leaned lazy against the counter.
The hero blinked, not expecting the comment. They took a sip of the wine instead of replying, hoping that perhaps an equally steady silence might come across as cool and mysterious instead of flabbergasted.
The villain smiled. "Say please."
"W-what?"
"Say please if you want me to screw your pretty brains out until you can't think straight."
The hero spluttered. "That's not - I'm not - that's not why I'm here." They undoubtedly would say please, but it had never been so close to the start, so when there wasn't any excuse they could possibly give for the desperate needing of it.
"No?"
"No." The hero swallowed.
"So you don't go on your little dates just to wind me up?" The villain finally straightened, taking a step closer.
The hero stepped back, but didn't run, didn't want to. Mesmerised. Their mouth felt very dry. "No." Such a lie.
The villain's smile grew. "You don't secretly wish I'd kiss you, claim you, in front of all of them?"
"No." The hero jutted their chin up. "I'm not a thing to be claimed."
The villain advanced; the hero back-tracked.
"You don't," the villain continued, a honeyed murmur, "say no, because you love all the ways I can persuade you. Because then you can pretend you don't want this. Because you like watching me take control of you."
The hero's back hit the wall. Miraculously, the wine didn't spill, still clutched uselessly in one hand.
"No."
"Mm." The villain set their palms on either side of the hero's shoulders, and the hero felt the very air between them might start vibrating with the urge to close the gap. "Perhaps I'll never crash one of your dates again then."
The thought was unbearable. The villain was bluffing, right? They had to be bluffing.
The hero wet their lips. The villain's gaze dropped to follow the movement, then flicked back up to the hero's eyes.
"You're a bastard," the hero whispered, because it was true and it wasn't no.
"Why yes," the villain's eyes gleamed, "I am." They waited.
The hero's stomach squirmed. "Are you actually going to make me say it?"
"I thought I didn't control you. I thought you weren't mine."
The hero shivered.
"So how could I," the villain leaned in to the hero's ear, still not quite touching, "possibly make you do anything?"
"...please."
"What was that, love?"
"I hate you."
"Do you?" The villain's lips finally pressed against their skin, kissing down their neck.
"Yes. So much." The hero's head fell back, offering more of their throat. The wine glass drooped in their hand.
"Don't spill on my floor."
The wine glass righted with titan concentration. There was nowhere to put it down.
The villain kissed them; soft, so soft, a promise of so much more to come.
"Would you like me to stop?" the villain asked against their lips.
"...no."
"No?"
"No."
The villain hummed and kissed them again, a little harder. The wine glass wobbled treacherously in the hero's hand once more. The hero's other hand clutched the villain's shoulder.
"I think we're done with the stage in our relationship where you pretend to date other people," the villain said, when they pulled back, breathless. They caught the hero's chin, and their stare was, for a moment, serious.
The hero scrambled past the kiss-drunk haze, brow furrowing. "It's actually bothering you?"
"No," the villain said, in the same tone that the hero said no, meaning yes.
"Okay." The hero leaned in to kiss them, just once, reassuring.
Tension eased out of the villain's shoulders. The wicked playfulness returned, and they shoved the hero back against the wall again. The next kiss was a consuming, hungry thing, and the hero could only chase after more than they were given, gasping.
The villain nipped the hero's neck, before giving a chiding click of their tongue. It once again sent an anticipatory shiver of delight down the hero's spine.
"Oh, would you look at that," the villain said, with soft and bewitching menace. "You spilled my wine. However shall I make you pay me back for that?"
"Make me?" The hero bit their lip. "You think you can make me do anything? Please."
The villain grinned.
There were no more dates with other people after that.
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They Left on the Autumn Wind
No one could remember when there had been colour in the village. Despite their best efforts, the finest academics and wealthy benefactors who chased the most absurd, dead-end leads, no one could give an answer: where had the colour gone?
Some people fervently believed it would come back. They had to believe it would come back. The village became an endless expanse of dull monochrome where no sound existed either. Well, that’s not the whole truth but the low eerie, cottoned mouthed static that carried all the across ever minute of every day, stopped being a sound, rendered merely a companion to the black and white.
The village sits on the middle of a maze of meadows and lakes, a mix of older, estate houses with massive yards and two-story, colonial style townhouses on the perimeter and tall, building block homes the further you drove into the centre, where the local businesses and shopping districts were.
That was the rhythm: the sun was stuck at midday, everyone blended into each other, conversations were stranded underwater, facial expressions never deviated far from panic and apathy, cats and dogs motioned their barks and meows, birds flew backwards for entertainment, and children held each other for warmth. Not that it was cold; it was more a need to be close to someone who understood, someone who wasn’t yet lost to the gape.
This was where Dintle found herself: a young woman born without colour. She’d never so much as heard her parents voices- more their distant, muddled chatter, no matter how close they got. Even though there was love in her house, her parents existed in the inbetween- not totally lost to the gape, but they did nothing to stop its stalking. They were like most of the older people in the village; complacent, ready for the implosion but they wouldn’t mind another day in nowhere.
Dintle wasn’t sure where she fit in- some measure of hopelessness was normal, necessary, if you didn’t want to end as one of the Letters. However, your hope shouldn’t go beyond gratitude for waking up and excitement for supper (boerewors rolls and chips with a side salad, condiments optional. Beverages: tap water with ice. Every day: no exceptions, no deviations).
So, she let it be, playing no attention to the pang in her chest. There didn’t need to be purpose- for the sake of the village, there could only be today and what each and every citizen filled it with: breakfast (a bowl of porridge, unsweetened with eggs, baked beans and bangers, no condiments. Beverages: coffee or tea, milk and three sugars. Every day: no exceptions, no deviations) and their jobs, relationships, lunch (pap, chicken and gravy with creamed spicy spinach, salt and pepper only. Beverages: juice, flavour not relevant. Every day: no exceptions, no deviations) children, pets and so on, giving no attention to the ding and its very big teeth.
Dintle doesn’t interrogate why she begins watching the Letters every day before bed and just as she wakes up. She’s of oldish money, so she lives on the perimeter, her parent’s estate stretching along the line of that demarcates the Pine Tree forest.
The Letters live a little ways inside the forest, just enough that the houses on the perimeter could see where they were from their windows but the Letters themselves couldn’t reach those houses. If like Dintle, you started playing attention to them and their collective goings-on, you would notice that they stomp and lurch, arms restlessly outstretched, fingers curled outwards, and their mouths agape.
Every movement they make is an unearthly twist, an odd coordinated bend, like trees with broken branches that refuse to fall off.
“They’re…talking to the sun?”, Dintle thinks, at the breakfast table. After a few days of watching the Letters, she’s noticed that their lurching isn’t random- they move in unison, each step identical and although their arms still move wildly, all of them adhere to this seemingly set ritual.
There’s a pat on her shoulder. Her mother is asking a question- it sounds like, “Are you okay?”. Dintle nods, mouthing “Yes.”
“What are you thinking about?,” her mother continues; although Dintle is used to the underwater speak, garbled speech that is the lexical of the village, it has never not been uncomfortable. She flinches and answers, “I’m thinking about the Letters.”
Dintle forgets how to breathe when a piercing screech meets her ears. What is this? What is this, clawing into her senses, rattling them, shaking her internal world by the shoulders, at maximum volume?
“What the fuck is this?!”, she begs.
She’s sweating when she wakes up. Fumbling to right herself and sit up, she kicks her covers off of her. Deep, ineloquent breaths follow until she feels settled. Her braids are loose from the bun she made the previous “evening” as she feels around her head and face. All is in order. Her room is the same: a snapshot of an opulent upbringing, the decor stuck between the girl she used to be and the woman she is. The sun is still at midday.
Outside of her window, she sees large dot like hues of black on the ground. The reeds in the Pine Tree forest have grown out, so it obscures what those dots might be. She gets closers, gripping her night gown by its hem, inching closer to where she usually observes her Letters.
It’s not so much a gasp that Dintle lets out but a feeling that she’ll never be equipped to understand. The Letters are on the ground, spaced out at an arms length, their hands intertwined but their wrists bend in at an angle that seems impossible for a human body.
Dintle leans out of her window, unable to stop herself from taking in more. That eerie soundtrack of the town is somehow louder, clearer over where the Letters lay.
None of them move. Their eyes are open, mouths are still agape; Dintle muses that they must be asleep when she notices the large, oddly coloured blanket under and around their bodies. This gives her some peace; some hope that later on, she’ll be able to watch her Letters, graceless, heavy and lost to their dance for the sun.
Before closing the window, Dintle takes a deep breath, taking the air all the way to the bottom of her lungs and out again. Double checking that the window was shut and bolted, Dintle climbs back into bed, soothed by the smell of Pine.
As she drifts back into the reaches of sleep, Dintle’s mind goes over the small details of her day: she took a walk with the dogs around the estate, supper was delicious (like it is every day, no expections, no deviations), and the Letters are having a much deserved rest; although, they are an odd bunch, they’re mouth opening and closing like that…
Curious how their eyes never seemed so agonised previously…
Curious still, what gives life to the pang in Dintle’s chest, is when she remembers that Pine has never smelt like copper.
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Erotic Monkey
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Competition in identical Goods
This isn't an analysis in similar good, like granny-smith apples and honey crisp apples, but identical goods.
After being shown several examples, such as price competition in a dozen eggs I thought it might be interesting to examine how this function works through several methods. Socialistic, Capitalistic, and competition between both.
So if three farmers produce several dozens of eggs, the farmer who prices his eggs the lowest we will no doubt sell out first. If that's the total amount that a community needs, then the other two farmers won't sell anything unless they price competitively.
If demand is high, all three farmers will eventually sell all their eggs, and the farmer with the lowest price will increase his prices simply because the demand is higher than the supply and they will all eventually sell out.
Unless you price over what the customers are willing or able to pay, then all the farmers won't sell out without a price decrease. Remember, the customers are budgeting for total food, and they might go with a cheaper product instead. (Like a bag of potatoes, even if they're not getting their total protein intake.)
Which may result in eggs going bad instead of being sold.
If the demand is low, then one of those farmers will take a hit. He will have no choice. Unless one farmer undercuts the others, they may end up with product that goes bad before it is sold.
There's a few ways to ensure that all farmers get equitable payment, that also ensures the product is available to your average consumer. The first is through incorporation or conglomeration. A bunch of egg farmers get together, package their eggs together, and then divide the revenue amongst themselves. So if 5 farmers work together, everybody gets paid 1/5 an egg instead of competing together.
The problem with this is, that farmers are currently overwhelmed and underpayed by the current overlords that control most of the egg corps. Imagine working fast food, but instead it's chicken butts and cardboard.
The farmers are also expected to take loans from these corps to start up, which is where most of the profit comes from the corporate side, and the farms take the losses if they can't keep up with the demands of the corp, who also penalizes them for it.
See: Stray Dog Institute for more information
Another way is the socialistic method, the government sets aside money for the expected need of the population. The government buys the eggs from the farmers, and then sells it to the customers. This has a few of it's own benefits and drawbacks, one drawback is similar to the current problem with incorporation, in that the government might pay less than the farms put into producing the eggs. But a benefit, is that the government can afford to sell the eggs at a lower cost than they paid for it. They'll make the loss back through taxes.
We can see that both of these methods have the same drawback that many people would place solely on "socialism" and that's why it's key that there is both. If they are competing, farms can sell where they get more money, and customers can buy from where it's cheapest to buy.
The competition also means that they have to adhere to certain safety standards, and increasing safety standards can be a competition point.
The main drawback of the socialistic method is that there's no room for discerning "like items" except by the USDA grading scale. So "organic" and "cage-free" and similar methods that were often used to claim healthier and more tasty product yields don't fit, since both are more worried about low-price and product yield instead of product quality.
That's where the capitalist method, and allowing individual family-owned farms to shine. If they can find a customer base, they can sell outside the paradigm created by the worst of capitalism and socialism combined.
With enough effort, the standards of the family farm can make it into the safety and health minimum standards for egg production.
Currently, however, that's not likely. Since most people can't afford whole-foods, they're not about to waste what little money they have for food on food they might not be able to tell the difference.
This is the landscape we're facing today, and everybody already knows that you don't take the more expensive option when the only option is belt tightening. And that's going to hurt the individuals at the end of all these options.
Those farmers incorporated, the ones subsidized, the family farmers, and the individual consumer. They're all currently hurting, even though we still waste more eggs than we eat.
Isn't that something?
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See, Sedusa was in the Reboot...
Master Research Link
What I’ve learned...
So IDW begins with a typical Powerpuff Story. They beat up Mojo, they beat up a monster, it turns out to be a golfer that went missing for decades. But interestingly, Mojo is rethinking his life. By the end of the first issue, he wants to be dosed in Chemical X. Second issue, Mojo is gone and Jojo is back. But HIM sees a prime opportunity to mess with the girls and decides that if they are willing to give second chances, let’s see them do so.
So HIM made all the remaining villains, Sedusa, Morbucks, Fuzzy and the Gangreen Gang, into good guys. The sad part is I really like them as good guys. Sedusa is back doing hair and being humorous. Fuzzy is fighting for our property. Morbucks is working with the girls. And all of them work together to beat up a giant monster. It’s just a shame HIM just turned them back to normal as quickly as he turned them good.
So HIM’s plan was to make the girls never trust everyone. All he did was cork their bad intentions and once loose, they went back to their natures. Hearing this, they decide to fight HIM for messing with them. But HIM was too powerful for them. It’s just a shame his Shadow Clones don't work on Bubbles because she has no deep darkness in her (even though she totally does). It also shows that Bubbles has an exclusive power outside language: light projecting.
Mojo is back and he sends a nuke down the volcano to basically wipe out the human race. The Girls stop it, but Mojo is in space for Plan B. Shame we never know unless it actually does lead to the Super Crossover Crisis. Monster Day has the girls fighting every monster from the Island in Townsville. All thanks to King Steve who was the monster who gave them the pep-talk when they were trying to find new hero identities. The Girls eventually won thanks to Bubbles showing she has the idea to reprogram Mojo’s Robots. Thus leading her to her computer language in the Reboot.
The series ended with a two parter where The Boogeyman works with Disco aliens while Viking Alien Boy Bands team up with both the Powerpuff Girls AND Rowdyruff Boys. And sadly Mojo’s Plan B was taken out since the series was ending. Overall, I do prefer this over the DC Series since it does feel like a modern take of the PPGs. And funny enough, a lot of stuff here actually comes up in the Reboot.
Super Secret Crisis War is pretty fun, but not really a lot of game changing Vs Stuff. I don’t think the Girls directly hit Vilgax or Aku. Though the thing that’s interesting is both Fosters and Dexter were referenced directly in the PPG Series, yet are treated as separate worlds in the crossover. Maybe those are specific variants. The other crossover I reviewed and like before nothing really that game changing... Except Mojo threatened to destroy the Multiverse and rebuild it!
Finally reading the reboot comics, and found one holding all the issues proper. Off the bat, Donny and Jared are going to be completely ignored. As much as I dislike Bellum for being overhyped, they’re objectively worse and boring respectively. So far, I think if you wanted more action from the girls the comics seem to be giving it to you. Just skip the second issue. Chicken Butts.
The Time Tie Miniseries is alright. Gives Mojo a Time Tie. Though the Bureau of Bad special is doing wonders. Already, it solidifies the scaling to Dexter’s Superhero stuff (and I did that already for Macho man) and it’s basically the best of both worlds. The story feels like the old school Powerpuffs but with the new designs and characters. And with that, all the comics for the Powerpuff Girls are done. Now, the video games as listed on Wiki (skipping the Browser Games because I doubt they got much).
Starting with Mojo Jojo's Clone Zone because I’m curious what kind of game it is for the PC. It's an educational game. But it introduced us to Mojo’s Psychic Shields, shields that protect his brain powered by his brain. So in theory, this means he can’t be mentally probed. But reveal his deep dark secrets (which aren’t that bad), and they’ll weaken.
Best Feat I found...
Mojo threatens to destroy and rebuild the Multiverse. Granted, it was mostly Dee Dee’s fault but Mojo took over and had everything set up to finish destroying and remake everything in his image. Second place is Mojo’s Tail being able to send the Powerpuff Girls flying through space. If Gal-Cactus didn’t stop them, they would be flying for almost 400 years.
Next Time...
More games. Possibly the Gameboy ones.
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Jealous Billy prompt? 💥
Him and Steve had this relationship that was mostly sex, but it ended because of a bad fight (Steve had feelings and so did Billy but he didn’t wanna accept them.) Now they have to face each other again because Billy got dragged into the Vecna stuff with the other four, but it’s awful because he can’t take his eyes off of Steve who clearly has a thing with Eddie (The two have slept together couple of times before so it’s not just flirting around, there’s really something there) and well, a fight happens. FEELINGS happen. Billy’s just, very jealous.
“It was very metal, is all I’m saying.”
Billy was seething.
Walking behind Steve and Eddie the fucking freak. It was his own personal torture.
The Freak leaned over to get in Steve’s space, Steve barely placing a half-hearted elbow put to stop The Freak from climbing into his skin, but smiled at The Freak with a look that made Billy sick.
Because Billy knows that look.
That’s the look of Steve Harrington having a major thing for the guy he’s talking to.
He would know.
He had that look. For nearly six months.
And then the end of June came and Steve told him he loved him, and Billy fucking freaked, and said all this awful shit to Steve that still haunts him and means Steve gives him all these icy stares, if he even looks in Billy’s direction at all.
He knows Steve and that weirdo are fucking.
He knows because of the stupid black hankerchief hanging out of The Freak’s back pocket, and the hickies that Steve couldn’t possibly to hide underneath that fucking perfect yellow sweater.
He knows because The Freak gave Steve his stupid denim vest and Steve slid it on with this shy little smile that made Billy wanna tear out his damn hair.
It’s fucking stupid.
That he’s stuck trudging behind everyone, glaring at Steve interacting with The Freak.
He had Steve. He could’ve had more with Steve, but he was too chicken shit for that.
So instead of acknowledging his feelings, he broke Steve’s heart.
And Steve ran straight into the arms of The Freak.
“I hate this place,” Steve said quietly, leaning over closer to The Freak, meaning their conversations to simply be between those two.
“I know. We’ll get our weapons, and we’ll get right back out.”
Steve shivered, and The Freak brushed a hand in a comforting motion over his back, dropping the hand quickly and glancing back at Billy.
“He looks mad,” he muttered to Steve.
Steve cast one glance over his shoulder, looking right at Billy and scoffing loudly.
“He doesn’t have a right to be.” Steve was still looking right at Billy.
The Freak glanced nervously at Billy, like Billy was a bomb waiting to go off.
Freak’s not exactly wrong.
Billy would fucking love to punch his stupid lights out.
What does he have that Billy doesn’t?
(Apart from Steve, that is.)
Nothing.
His hair looks totally fried, like it would be crunchy to the touch. Everything he owns is ripped and torn.
And yeah, Billy’s poor too. He grew up in a trailer pretty much identical to the one The Freak sells drugs out of.
But he’s better at faking it.
He learned how to sew and repair the shitty holes that wear through his shitty things.
The Freak just wears the shitty things looking like shit.
“He’s not allowed to be mad at either of us. And he’s not allowed to be mad at my fucking happiness.” Steve turned back to face forward, and The Freak gave Billy another weary look before facing front as well.
“That’s right, Freak. Mind your own business.”
Before Billy could realize, Steve turned to face him, making Billy stop dead in his tracks.
“What was that?”
Billy huffed a laugh.
“Was just telling the Freak to mind his own fucking business.”
Steve clenched his jaw.
“Don’t. Fucking call him that.”
Billy laughed again, stepping closer to Steve, going toe to toe with him.
“Why not? He is a fucking freak.” Billy pushed Steve’s chest, but he stood his ground.
Billy doesn’t know if he wants to punch him or make out with him.
“Just because you two are happy little queers together, doesn’t mean he’s not.”
“Hey!” Robin roared stomping towards them. “Don’t fucking-”
“Oh, yeah,” Steve rolled his eyes, talking over Robin. “Because all those times you sucked my dick was super straight behavior.”
“Well, at least I don’t go around telling every guy that looks twice at me that I fucking love them,” Billy hissed.
He knew it would hurt Steve.
But he’s never been able to stop hurting the people he cares about.
“Alright, alright.” The Freak pulled Steve back a bit, stepping between Billy and Steve. “Any other day, I’d be happy to battle you for Steve’s honor, or whatever, but if you hadn’t noticed, we’re currently stuck in a creepy ass hellscape, so if we could table this discussion for later, that’d be great.” The Freak gave him a sarcastic smile, turning around to pull Steve along by his elbow.
Billy waited until Steve and The Freak were several yards away, trudging along behind the group.
“You need to let him go.” Robin fell into step beside him. “He’s moved on, and you’re just making yourself miserable.”
Billy sighed.
“I fucking know.”
“And you’re not making him want to forgive you.”
Billy didn’t answer, kicking at a rock at his feet.
Robin, knowing she made her point, skipped along ahead, catching up with the other four in their little pack.
If they got out of here alive, Billy was absolutely gonna fight that freak.
#this is the one that got deleted and i really liked it before but i CANT REMEMBER the specific details bc im stoopid#yikes writes#it was lowkey weird writing unrequited harringrove like this lol#harringrove#steddie#steve harrington#billy hargrove#eddie munson
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